Devlin: I found out I was allergic to them when I was six. They were baked into a pie with other berries. I noticed too late.

Vy: Were you hurt?

Devlin: I went into anaphylactic shock.

Vy: What did it feel like?

Devlin: My tongue swelled up, and my throat felt very tight, and–

Vy: –what did it feel like to almost die?

Devlin: It… Welcome. But that wasn’t the day for me.

Vy: Is today the day?

Devlin: Do you want today to be your day?

Vy: I hope they take me next.

Devlin: Don’t say that.

Vy: Then I wouldn’t have to wonder. There’s so much I wonder.

Devlin: Like what?

Vy: What my daughter would look like in her cap and gown. If that apple tree would ever fully grow back. Where I put all those coins from the Renaissance fair. If I ever really was in love with him, or if it was just the idea of love that I wanted.

Devlin: Where are you going?

Vy: To speak to them.

Devlin: Please, don’t. They’ll kill you.

Vy: No. They’ll welcome me.

Devlin: I… don’t even know your name. How can you die without telling me your name?

Vy: Why does that matter?

Devlin: Because a name is a promise. It’s the “sincerely” at the end of a letter. It’s what seals your intention.

Vy: I don’t have any intentions towards you.

Devlin: I don’t believe you.

Vy: You don’t have to. You don’t know me.

Devlin: Don’t I?

Vy: Your hands are very soft.

Devlin: Thank you.

Vy: You’re… welcome.

Devlin: Welcome…

Vy: Yes. Welcome. Like when you wanted to die but didn’t. My name is Vy.